


Rain Check

by Confuzledsheep



Series: Storm Warning [1]
Category: Granblue Fantasy (Video Game)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Breaking Up & Making Up, Family Dynamics, Impromptu Camping, M/M, Six is scared of thunder, Thunderstorms
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-27
Updated: 2018-09-27
Packaged: 2019-07-18 10:51:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,650
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16116890
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Confuzledsheep/pseuds/Confuzledsheep
Summary: He had dated Six fortwo yearsand notoncehad he mentioned the fact that he knew Quatre’s father.It wouldn’t have taken much, either. Just a casual statement would have covered it.“Oh, your dad is Seofon Lamrell? Huh, what a coincidence. I happened to have a massive crush on him for 7 years before falling for you. Oh, and I even confessed this crush to him. I knew he had kids, I just never expected them to be your age.”





	1. Downpour

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Onus_Probandi](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Onus_Probandi/gifts), [vanishing_apples](https://archiveofourown.org/users/vanishing_apples/gifts).



> Guess who's back on their bullshit? It's me.
> 
> I wrote this for some pals who are more 4/6 fans than 6/7 fans. I also wanted to challenge myself. This ended up being more of a Quatre study than a ship fic but oh well.

Of course it was fucking raining.

The front door slammed behind him, and he didn’t even bother to put his hood on, storming through the puddles that had already formed on the cracked walkway.

The moss on the driveway nearly made him slip, hands in his pockets, grasping for his keys as he slid into the driver’s seat.

His heart was pounding in his ears, tears threatening to spill over. 

The car sputtered and hacked before finally spurring to life. His phone buzzed in the cup holder.

He didn’t want to look at it, hands moving with trained ease- pressing just down enough on the brake to switch to reverse before disengaging the parking brake and barely turning around to back down the driveway onto the potholed street- where he would stop at the first stop sign and then turn right after seven intersections and get on the freeway and get off the freeway eleven exits down and then make two lefts and a right and park at the far end of the apartment parking lot then walk up the creaky open backed stairs to the door with the gold door sign that read 23 with the little silver ‘A’ next to it.

That's what he would do if he was a little more put together. But he wasn't. Not in that current moment.

Most of the beginning sequence was the same. He liked logical things, patterns, things that made sense- but instead of getting off the freeway and making those two lefts and a right he kept going. And going. And going.

He drove until the gas gauge fell into the red and he got off the freeway and drove to a sketch gas station and got the gas he should have gotten much earlier. The tank had been low for three days and he had been putting off getting gas for twice that long.

Half of a paycheck up in flames, he wanted to check his schedule before pulling out, and he did so. No work for the next five days.

5 missed calls from Song.

8 missed calls from Tien.

None from Six. None from Siete.

7 total unread texts. He knew that two of them were from yesterday.

He didn't answer any of them, phone returning to the cupholder as he got back on the freeway.

His head hurt, tears running out of water 15 miles back. He didn't know where he was going.

Something sick and distorted inside of him wanted to get into a car crash and die.

Go out in the biggest pile of wreckage this stretch of road had ever seen. Flipped vehicles, engines crushed and mangled, roll cages split and cracked.

He would be missed, he knew that. It would destroy them, he knew that too. Such a thought was selfish- he had heard it a thousand times.

But he was selfish. That's who he was, no doubt. 

Six should know that. Siete and Tien most definitely did.

He could tell he was well out of the county. 

_Just pick an exit with a good name and go there._

Auguste Parkway, Luminance Street, Silver Street followed by Wind Avenue.

30 minutes later he found an interesting street. “SW Cypher boulevard.”

There were no cars to merge with when he switched lanes. Just the rain, his junk car, and him.

No one was on the streets. No one in their right mind would be on the streets at this time in this weather.

His stomach gurgled, tying in knots. He wanted food. Gross food. Gross, fatty food with something strawberry flavored because that was the one flavor Six _didn't like._

Or maybe he was wrong about that. Maybe that was just another lie. Not like he would know.

He had dated Six for _two years_ and not _once_ had he mentioned the fact that he knew Quatre’s father.

It wouldn’t have taken much, either. Just a casual statement would have covered it.

_“Oh, your dad is Seofon Lamrell? Huh, what a coincidence. I happened to have a massive crush on him for 7 years before falling for you. Oh, and I even confessed this crush to him. I knew he had kids, I just never expected them to be your age.”_

He pushed that from his mind as he shoved disgusting diner food down his throat. He should have ordered some water, but he didn’t. God knew what was in it. He had a case of water bottles in the backseat. He was going to do _something_ with them at one point, but that something was long forgotten.

Paying in crumpled bills, he stormed back out to the car. His dad’s office was around here. He had a parking pass, and he knew the code- he attended classes at the college after all. He could just sleep on the couch or sneak his car into the garage and sleep there.

Or not. Was he really required to play it safe here?

Despite better judgement, he drove to the campus. He _knew_ Six was here at one point. He knew Six also carved something into a tree on campus.

_“I dunno, I think stuff like that is a bit cheesy.”_

_“...I did it. Once.”_

_“You did?! For who!?” (He wanted it to be for him, but he never would admit such a thing. Especially now.)_

_“...an Old crush. Back when I was in college.”_

_“You’re kidding me!”_

_Six shook his head, face flushed in that cute way, pouting ever so slightly. “It’s probably still there…”_

_“You’ll have to show me one day, I wanna see your garbage taste.”_

He hit way too close to the mark with that one.

There was a small lake in the middle of the parking lot, formed by the unrelenting rains. His sweatshirt was probably not going to do much, but he didn’t care. 

The campus was empty, and as he checked his pocket knife, it dawned on him he could get arrested for this. Either for destruction of property or some dull, near forgotten ecological rule about hurting the very specific kind of tree the shitty heart was carved into.

There was a particular group of trees directly across from his dad’s office, and Quatre had the sneaking suspicion he would find it there.

Not like he needed to look very hard.

It wasn’t very big, but the intricacies of the carving made his blood boil. 

The rain didn’t fall here, thick needles of the tall pines covering him.

He honestly thought his knife was going to snap in half when he made the first strike. Trees could be pretty tough, but this one acted like it was made of iron, not wood.

But with just enough leverage, he could chip off a very large chunk of it.

A block the size of his fist landed in the fallen needles, ‘+S.K.’ Carved into the bark.

_I could throw that through his windshield if he had a damn car. Or if I could stomach driving to the house I could send it flying through his window._

The other two initials taunted him.

He couldn’t do something like that. He hated seeing his father's initials next to Six’s, but they were fine on their own.

He picked up the chunk, brushing the needles and dirt from it. Six’s handwriting was so… beautiful, and flowing. Quatre had never seen it like this before. It was always for official documents or Christmas cards or thank-you notes.

Six never wrote Quatre’s name with such reverence, never spoke his name with such pride and adoration.

He wasn’t his dad, and that was the problem.

A twelve-year difference shouldn’t be that much at their ages. Maybe a few more years and a few white lies and they would be good to go. No questions asked. They could, theoretically, be happy. They could move forward.

Leaving Quatre the accidental proxy- the replacement Six didn’t intentionally seek but ended up with anyway.

Two empty water bottles ended up in the passenger’s seat, phone still ignored. There was a campground 50 miles out. He had the cash for a night, before he could call up Sen and couch surf until he found a way to travel across the country, change his name, and start again.

But who knows. Maybe his father’s shadow reached all the way to the other coast. Not like he knew much about him either. 

He was only informed of the bare minimum: Mysterious 25 year old adopts two children and to everyone’s surprise, he ended up being a very good dad, despite the sword collection, and pursuing a PHD. Likely with the assistance of a seemingly endless amount of money, despite never mentioning an actual job before becoming a professor of chemical engineering who specializes in ancient weapons.

Not to mention that he was a nice guy. He never flaunted his rarely mentioned wealth, he was kind and forgiving to his students (within reason), and he was becoming widely regarded as a top researcher in his field, getting closer and closer to the complete and perfect replication of Damascus steel with every passing month.

In other words, everything Quatre wasn’t.

Pulling into a parking spot, he ran to the restroom before heading back and clearing off the back seat. The case of water bottles went to the trunk, old receipts balled up and thrown over into the front, along with a few CDs he couldn’t remember acquiring. He was thankful for the ratty blankets he kept in the back, balling one up to become a pillow.

The hardly opened box of tissues shoved under the seat was suddenly more useful that he ever would have suspected.

The tears started flowing again, and he could hardly stop it. He was the replacement. Intentional or not- and it hurt. It hurt so bad. 

He was nowhere near as smart or wealthy- Seofon, well, Siete, him and Tien always called him that, had encouraged him to get a job, only offering to pay for tuition. Even though they were still living together (Siete had been out for 6th months on a research trip, and it was just stupid for Quatre to move.) he had to pay for books and food and gas.

He was just average, from most standpoints. Personally wise, he was leagues below. He was selfish, and had a slight narcissistic streak he slowly worked on restraining. No high IQ’s or great accomplishments were held to his name. He was just fucking normal.

And while in most situations that was fine… 

A small mountain of tissues had piled up on the floor. He probably looked extremely sketchy- a twenty-something sleeping in ratty blankets crying his eyes out in a sky blue Ford Taurus that had probably seen at least 5 owners and 4 fatal overdoses.

Not that he really cared.

The blankets still smelled vaguely like Six. Only two weeks prior Quatre had been shuttling his ass all the way from the middle of the country. That seemed like years ago now. 

He felt sick, like there was someone scrambling his guts, chest hollowed out by some invisible force.

Trying to think of something positive, something that didn’t make his blood freeze or heart collapse didn’t work. He couldn’t find anything other than sadness and emptiness.

Emptiness was the lesser of two evils.

Phone abandoned, hair a mess, head already pounding, cheeks and lips sticky with tears, he resigned himself to a fitful sleep.

***

He woke up to little fists banging on the door.

A high pitched voice squeaked, warbled by the pounding and the door. “Hey! Mister! Are you dead!!”

Quatre scrambled up, looking out the window. At first he didn't see anything, which was confusing, but then he looked down and came face to face with a very curious grade schooler.

“I'm pretty sure I'm alive.” _For now, at least._

“Aw man…” the girl said, looking a bit disappointed.

Quatre couldn't think of anything witty or appropriate to say, and luckily he didn't actually need to think of anything, a man coming over and picking up the girl.

The man could snap him in half without batting an eye. “Fif, stop harassing the poor man.”

The little girl huffed, stepping away from the car, kicking rocks.

“I apologize for my granddaughter. I was going to check and see if you were alright and she seemed to have gotten the wrong idea…”

Quatre ensured his keys were in his pocket, opening the door and putting his shoes on before stepping out. “It’s alright… sorry if I disturbed you guys when I drove in last night…”

The man glanced into the car, blinking in slight surprise. Or what Quatre assumed was surprised. “Impromptu camping? This time of year?”

Quatre looked at his feet. “...Bad breakup. Needed to go somewhere far away asap.”

He seemed to understand quickly. “You are welcome to join us for breakfast, we seem to be the only campers here.”

Quatre’s immediate thought was _’This guy could poison me so easily right now’_ but he was in no position to doubt strangers, or pass up their generosity. “...I... That would be great, thank you.”

The man turned, pointing to a spot only one away from his own. “We’re pretty close.”

Fif had already dashed off, and Quatre followed, walking next to the frankly majestic man. He was lumberjack-y, seemed like an outdoors type. Dark, impressive horns stuck out from salt and pepper hair pulled back in a low ponytail. Quatre wouldn’t be surprised if he was just saved by some forest spirits, if he was perfectly honest.

“Do you need me to call anyone for you?” The man leaned over, nearly whispering.

He shook his head, ears drooping. “I should be fine… just an out of hand spat.”

Looking over, he was sure the man didn’t believe him.

“You don’t need to worry, there was no violence. I just… maybe overreacted a little by coming here.”

He backed off. “Would bacon and eggs work for you? We have some porridge too.”

“Uh, anything is fine…” He said, taking a seat at the picnic table, which was amazingly dry, due to the tarp strung over it, tied to adjacent trees.

Fif was digging into some food, completely focused on her porridge, which seemed to contain more brown sugar than actual porridge but he wasn’t in a position to judge.

A steaming hot plate of eggs and bacon with toast was placed in front of him, the man sitting next to Fif, who was across from him.

About to dig in, he remembered he never introduced himself. “Uh, I’m Quatre. Thank you so much for this…”

“I’m Eahta. That’s Fif.” He said, motioning to red-haired girl. “I knew a man whose son was named Quatre. Wasn’t expecting it to be common”

Something cold blossomed in his chest. Of course this man knew his father. There was a chance he _didn’t_ , but it was a small one. “What was his name?”

“Seofon Lamrell.”

“Hm.”

They ate in silence, Fif scarfing down her food and then running off to find newts around their camping sites.

The food was really good, all the fat and the insane amount of water he consumed helping with his killer headache. He’s had _hangovers_ milder than this…

Swallowing back a bite of eggs on toast, he spoke up, questions pressing against his tongue. “How did you know my father?”

Eahta looked up from his coffee and magazine. Some sort of martial-arts monthly, it looked like. “We were in the Air Force together ages ago.”

Quatre almost choked. “What?”

“I was his commanding officer.”

“I didn't know he did _that.”_

Eahta shrugged. “He’s a bit of a mystery. Even to me. No one has the complete picture of who he is.”

_Some of that makes sense- the weapons interest, how he knows auntie Song and Silva… but why? Why would he do that? Why wouldn’t he say anything?_

“You must have learned something about him.”

Quatre snapped out of it. “How did you-”

He shrugged. “There’s a pattern.”

He furrowed his brows. What the hell did that mean? Should he really spill to some complete stranger who knew his dad... What, 20-something years ago!?

Eahta turned back to his magazine, coffee in hand.

“...Turns out my current, well, maybe Ex-boyfriend had a near obsession with my father for… 7 years? Something gross like that.”

Eahta hardly looked up from his magazine. “Hm. I heard something like that when I last saw him.”

Rain started pattering against the tarp. Quatre was boiling over with questions. His father never mentioned any sort of military service. There were no veterans discounts or ID or pensions or benefits. 

Staring at his empty plate, his chest started collapsing again. Did no one trust him? Was it the selfishness? Why did no one want to show him who they were?

What had he done wrong?

“You want me to take care of that?”

Ears snapping to attention, he looked at Eahta. “Oh, uh, I can take care of the dishes… I would hate to bother you any more than I have…”

“It’s fine. You’re welcome to eat with us until you leave.”

Quatre did the math in his head. Or at least tried to. “Do you know what day it is?”

“Tuesday.”

“No, uh, the date.”

“October 2nd.”

Dishes clattering in his hand, he spoke. “My birthday is in two days. Funny, how time actually passes sometimes.”

Eahta grunted, seemingly understanding him much too well.

***

“Hey!! Mr. Quatre!!!”

“Yeah Fif?”

“Wanna go bone hunting with me!?”

Quatre blinked in confusion. “What?”

“You can sniff out bones, right!? You got big puppy ears, so you gotta be able to smell ‘em!!” She giggled, looking up at him. Her pink rain boots were covered in mud, little yellow rain jacket covered in leaves and rainwater.

“Fif, He is an Erune, not a dog.” Eahta chided, arms full of firewood. “Please be respectful.”

The little girl almost immediately bore an expression of guilt, looking at her rain boots. “Sorry Mr. Quatre…”

“Apology accepted.” He said, looking over to Eahta. He was surprised he trusted him with his granddaughter.

“Please take flashlights though. And Quatre, you can borrow an old coat of mine.” He said, stacking the firewood up under the tarp.

“Ah, thank you. Is there any time you want us back by?”

“6, maybe 7:30 at the absolute latest.” He said, opening the trunk of their old SUV, pulling out something that looked more like a tent than a raincoat. “Here’s a coat and a flashlight. I also have a safety whistle for you.”

He shrugged on the hulking coat, struggling to even move his arms to grab the flashlight. “Thank you.”

Fif had already dashed off in the direction of the trail, jumping in puddles while waiting for Quatre. He made a quick detour to his car, grabbing a pocket knife just to be safe.

The hunk of wood on the floor was starting to sweat little beads of sap.

Something urged him to take it.

A few paper-towels later, he shoved the block into his pocket.

Flicking on the flashlight, he followed behind her. She bounded over to a relatively hidden path, the leaf covered earth now a mess of mud.

“Gramps and I ‘ve found some pretty cool stuff out here!!”

Quatre smiled. He loved working with kids. Fif was a few years older than the children he typically worked with, but her antics were more of a refreshing change of pace than an annoyance. “Like what?”

She slowed down, keeping pace with him. “Hhhmmm… One time we found a dead snake…”

“That sounds interesting.”

“Another time we found a weird briefcase….”

Quatre’s eyebrows lowered. “That’s a strange find…”

“Gramps didn’t want me to touch it, but he used his gloves to open it and it had all this weird money in it… and sugar…”

_Holy shit._

“Oh! Oh! One time we saw this really big deer!!!!”

“Really? How big was it?”

“As tall as the car! And it had… uh…”

Quatre paused and waited for her to finish, watching his step.

“7! It had 7 horns!!”

 _Excuse me what the fuck._ “Was it pretty?”

Fif looked at the ground, kicking at a mud puddle. “No… it was kinda scary…”

Quatre was imagining something right out of the nuclear apocalypse and was now pretty sure he would never be able to look at a deer again. “Do you have a favorite animal?”

His attempt at changing the topic seemed to work, Fif immediately brightening up. “I like frogs!! Oh, but I also like turtles… Bunnies care cute too!!!”

“You know why you like them?”

Fif tapped her chin in contemplation. “Papa used to have frogs... before all the metal lightning… then they all escaped…”

Quatre had a few guesses about what that ‘metal lightning’ could be, but he didn’t want to dig too deep into that.

He walked a few steps behind her, trying to take his mind off of the previous events. He was in a gorgeous woodlands, he shouldn’t be thinking about heartbreak.

“Mr. Quatre!! Look! Look!”

Quatre walked over to the girl, who was pointing to something right next to the trail.

Pushing aside the brush, he looked down. Something oddly shaped and light colored peeked up at him.

“Is that… a skull?”

Fif nodded excitedly. “Pony!!!!”

 _What the hell is a horse skull doing out here…._ “I don’t know if you can take it home…”

She frowned. “Yeah….. Gramps would say no… He says nature stuff should stay in nature….”

 _He just doesn’t want you to touch suspicious stuff…_ “That’s a very good rule. You wanna keep walking?” Quatre said, looking over to her.

She nodded, grabbing his hand and pointing further down the trail. “There’s a creek down here!!! It’s really pretty!!!”

“It sounds pretty.”

He let her pull him along, avoiding the slippery stones and gnarled roots that became more common the further down they went.

Eventually, the sound of water reached their ears, and a small river came into view.

Fif immediately bounded down the rocks to the water’s edge, excitedly looking for fish. Quatre followed behind, carefully navigating the slick rocks.

He joined Fif at the water's edge, kneeling down and peering into the water.

“Why do fish swim in circles?”

“Probably because they’re afraid of you.”

“Why.”

“...” Something dumb and philosophical inside of him didn’t want to give her the real answer. “Everything is afraid. Even if they won’t admit it.”

“I’m afraid of the dark. And thunderstorms. And the Metal Lightning.”

“I’m afraid of storms too.”

Fif looked up at him curiously. “Really?!”

“Yeah. My boyfri- a friend of mine is much more afraid then I am.”

“Gramps said lots of grown ups are afraid of Metal Lighting, and storms!!” 

_For entirely different reasons._ “He’s right about that.”

“...” She tried to grab one of the fish out of the water, to no success.

Quatre bent forward to peer into the creek, feeling something in his pocket press against his stomach.

_Oh yeah. The carving…_

He stood, grabbing the hunk of wood. The sap was starting to barely seep through the outermost paper towels, barely sticking to his hand.

However much love, and care, and fucking sacrifice Six put into this was pointless. Quatre was pissed. What else was he going to do with it? Those dreamily looping letters, that soft sentiment- it was not for him. It was _never_ for him- and he hated that.

It made a very satisfying ‘plunk’ at it hit the water. Quatre slipped his hand back into his pocket.

“Lets head back to camp, it’s getting dark. Your Grandpa will get worried.”

***

Quatre spent the evening with them, helping out with the cooking, doing dishes, reading Fif bedtime stories.

He returned to his car to sleep, digging around in the trunk, finding some clothes. A bag of clothes Six left in car… 2 weeks ago? He couldn’t remember when, only that it was when everything was still ok.

He didn’t have much choice. The clothes were definately a size larger than his own, all smelling way, way too much like him. A hint of sweat, a tiny, tiny bit of mint, some mystery cologne… who was he kidding it was likely deodorant or some shit…

It sickened him.

The ratty blankets barely kept him warm, forcing him to put on more layers, surround himself in more of what remained. He was absolutely drowning in memories and he wanted to get out. 

He recognized these sweatshirts- how Six’s ears twitched under the hoodie, hiding his blushes, how some of them had sleeves longer than his arms, hands getting lost in the fabric.

There was a grey one, a zippered one that Six had draped over his shoulders on their second date. It was one of the nicest looking ones he owned. 

The pants were all sweats, and he had few memories of any individual garment. When Quatre’s hands got cold in the winter, he would shove his hands into the large pockets- or directly under the waistband, grabbing Six’s thighs or squeezing his ass. That always made Six flustered, yank a cute noise from his throat.

Perhaps the worst find was a shitty band tee shirt. The font of the band’s name was so weird Quatre couldn’t even read it. There was a cluster of holes on the right side from that time they were cooking and it somehow lit on fire.

The most prevalent memory was not something he should associate a tee shirt with. No one was really supposed to remember that sort of detail, he didn’t think. Normal people didn’t remember what their partner was wearing the first time they had sex.

The memory was jumbled, mostly feelings and images stitched together into a patchwork narrative of what Quatre suspected happened. Six’s ears flicking, how he squirmed, how red his face was- the alcohol on his breath, Quatre’s rationality crying out for it to stop, to step back and rethink this, the rest of him ecstatic and willing.

Was that a bad idea? Absolutely. Quatre didn’t have much of a habit of doing good things when his feelings were in control. There was absolutely no reason why he should have driven this far out, no reason to trust two _complete strangers who could have killed him in seconds._

But he did, because his heart was much more akin to a wild animal than anything else.

He wanted Six back, he was willing to admit it to himself, but would he be able to admit it to others? He shouldn’t have gotten over something like this so easily- or act like he got over it. 

Relationships required communication, something both of them were very bad at.

Six was a crybaby with a past Quatre didn’t even want to ask about, and Quatre was a stubborn asshole with an inferiority complex. This really shouldn’t have worked out.

Somehow, it did. For the first year they were fine- everything was talked about, in some way or another- but after that, they just. Stopped. 

He could see his breath, the car starting to get very, very cold. He suspected tears would freeze to his face.

It was so… painful. Sleeping alone. They slept in separate rooms while Six was staying over, mostly to reduce the temptation to make way too much noise and keep Quatre’s father up. But before that, Quatre basked in the feeling of Six’s arms around him, tangled up in the sheets, starting off on opposite sides of the bed, only to end up meeting in the middle. Six’s feet were always cold, freezing his leg, but as much as he loved to tease him about it, Quatre found it… kinda cute. It was very.. Human.

They were both very human, in the worst possible way.

***

Quatre had breakfast with Fif and Eahta again, offering to help out with any chores or menial tasks. Eahta quickly sent him off to play with Fif, exploring more by the river. (Quatre was pretty sure he could _smell_ the rest of the horse’s corpse down by the creek, but he didn’t want to go confirm it.)

Fif managed to actually catch a fish this time, but it was far from a little smelt that stuck near the water’s edge. Quatre had turned around to see the tiny girl grinning ear to ear, curly hair covered in water, a 4 foot long fish in her hand.

She let it free once Quatre had taken a photo of it with his phone. All the calls and messages (now totaling 36 and 53, respectively) still unread.

Then she set herself on catching the biggest newt she could, which ended up being a fruitless endeavour.

Eventually, they returned to the campsite, Eahta having finished a spectacular batch of Chili.

Fif insisted on roasting marshmallows, the weather having been nice that day.

Marshmallow stuck to his fingers, trying to turn the pages of her favorite book. She wanted to start reading ‘grown up books’, moving away from picture books and onto some pretty hefty novels, in Quatre’s opinion. 

He got just as involved as she did, plowing through page after page until she started to get sleepy.

Fif passed out in her sleeping bag, Eahta covering her with a spare blanket.

The night air was freezing him to the bone. The heat of the fire was only barely reaching, but all things considered, he didn’t really care.

A can was passed to him.

Eahta sat across from him, cracking open the beer. “In theory I’m supposed to ask if your legal, but you can drive so I don’t care.”

The metal was cold in his palm, and he could barely get his half-frozen finger under the tab, but after some struggle, he cracked his own open.

It was cold in his mouth, only warming when it reached his throat. It was cheap, but he could stomach it, and that’s all that mattered.

Eahta put more logs on the fire, sparks and embers tumbling into the air for a brief moment.

“...What happened to my dad.”

There was a sigh from the older man, who was keeping his eyes on the fire. “There was some accident. He made it far enough to be shipped out to the front, but came back not long later. He looked a bit different, but that’s a given.”

“...Like, more Vacant?”

He nodded, taking another sip. “Most wounds are hard to see. War does that to people. I took a look at his file and there were no physical injuries. I wasn’t with him though.”

Quatre chewed his lip. “...Do you know two women named Song and Silva? They were snipers who worked with my dad.”

“They would know more about it than I would.”

They were silent, both finishing their beers and grabbing another.

He looked up to the sky. The clouds had cleared for that evening, and small scattering of Stars now graced the darkness.

“What are you going to do about your romance debacle.” It was more of a statement than a question. Eahta wasn’t asking for a theory, he was asking for an answer.

“I’ll confront him. I don’t give a shit about what he’s done, I just want to know why he never trusted me.”

“Have you already answered that question for yourself?”

Quatre was confused for a moment. What could that mean? What was Eahta trying to get at there?

“Did you ever trust him?”

Quatre wanted to be swallowed by the earth, dragged directly into the pits of hell, taking his shitty fabric lawn chair with him. 

Because the truth was, he didn’t. Or maybe not as much as he should. 

“...Maybe not as much as I should’ve.”

Eahta was looking into the distance, gazing at everything at once, and yet nothing in particular. “Love is like that. Just be thankful you’re sorting it out now.”

Quatre suspected that comment had something to do with personal experience. Maybe the absence of Fif’s parents. Not like he had any right to comment or judge.

He didn’t know the protocol for things like this. He liked to _think_ he was sorting out his own problems, not asking for much advice, being a respectable adult and all that crap. What do you ask a man easily… 3? Maybe even 4 times your age when you met him a day ago in the middle of basically nowhere.

“You must live in his shadow.”

Quatre almost wanted to laugh, that was the most obvious assumption he could have made, it was hardly a question- a universal truth, something established by the fates themselves. “What gave you that impression.”

“...I can’t help you with that, sadly. I can’t even shake mine.”

He never would have guessed such a thing. But, it seemed only natural. Everyone seemed to be overshadowed by another, conscious of that fact or not.

“There are still things that grow in darkness.”

Quatre’s ears lowered. He couldn’t tell what Eahta was looking at- the past, the present, the future? He wanted Eahta to point it out, what was he supposed to be aiming for, he wanted a sign, something to keep him going, advice, wisdom- He must know _something_ about the meaning of it all!

“Not even god, should such a man exist, could help you. Life is struggle. Grab onto the parts you love so they don’t escape you.”

He wondered how much he had lost. He couldn’t remember much of his life before Siete adopted them- maybe a few snippets. He tried to repress those memories long, long ago. Before he even knew what he was doing. Trying to dredge up such memories was likely a bad idea, considering his current situation.

“Got any other wisdom for me?”

“If you a lick a doorknob you don’t own it. It owns you.”

Quatre looked like someone just spilled boiling soup over his lap. 

He glanced down, seemingly embarrassed. “That was one was from Fif.”

“... Any actual advice?”

“Don’t let it kill you.”

***

He didn’t want to call her. But he kinda had to. Sibling obligation and all that stuff.

Amazingly, his reception wasn’t shit, even though he was surrounded by trees and rocks.

The mechanical drone of the phone grated against his ears as he waited to be turned over to voicemail. He wouldn’t be able to handle actually talking to her.

_“You’ve reached the cell phone of Tien Lamrell. Please leave a message and I will call you back as soon as possible.”_

He waited for the shrill beep before he opened his mouth to speak. His throat was dry, all the moisture in his mouth suddenly vanishing. 

Finally, he managed to stammer out a message. “Hey, Uh, Happy birthday. I know you’re probably worried, but I’m perfectly fine. No idea when I’ll be home. Be safe, ok? Love you.”

His screen glared back at him as he hung up, slipping his phone in his pocket.

The morning wind cut through his clothes. Of course Six’s clothes would be light…

“Mworning Mr. Quatre!!!” Fif giggled, waving from the picnic table. Her mouth was stuffed with food, something that looked very sugary in her hand. 

He sat down next to her, brushing out his hair with a comb he had slipped into his pocket. “Morning Fif.”

Eahta set a plate of food in front of him silently. He didn’t say a word about their conversation the previous night.

“I will need to head back home today.”

“Wha?! No!!” Fif whined. “I wanted to hangout with you more!!!”

Quatre frowned. He knew that would make her sad…

“Anything you will need for your journey?” Eahta asked, flipping through a new magazine.

“... I should be fine.”

“Hm.”

The hash browns were a little bland, the black coffee burning in his stomach. He never would have even considered complaining.

He did his dishes, placing everything back in the green plastic tub they used to store them. 

Fif looked heartbroken all throughout breakfast.

Turning towards Eahta, he offered out a hand. “Thank you. For everything.”

A large, callused hand grabbed his own, giving it a firm shake.

“Feel free to swing by anytime you need. I can give you my father’s contact information.”

“I already have it. Much appreciated though.”

With a firm nod, Quatre turned to Fif, heart heavy.

The little girl was sniffing, obviously trying to hold back tears. “Can I… braid your hair before you go??”

He smiled. “Sure.”

She wasn’t particularly good at it, but she tried, chubby little fingers grouping together the hair and weaving it into a big, messy braid.

Quatre wanted to cry.

Not from the pain, she wasn’t yanking on his hair or anything, but from the innocent care that went into the gesture. It was so simple, and yet so powerful. 

Six sucked at braiding hair. A seven year old was currently outperforming him. But that didn’t mean he didn’t at least try.

So many mornings where he woke up to Six running a hand through the streaks of lavender, taking advantage of the opportunity to do so while he was asleep. Trying to yank a brush through it for the brief period of time when Quatre actually let him. 

Fif pulled the hair tie around the end of it, and Quatre turned around.

Bawling, she wrapped herself around his waist, begging for him not to leave.

_A Grade schooler that met me two days ago can somehow show me a more honest reaction of affection than someone who has known me for two years._

“Hey, Fif, it’s ok… I’ll see you again soon.” He tried to smile and comfort her, but it was catching up to him again. Tears started flowing before he could even think to stop them. She hugged him tighter, and he reciprocated the embrace for what felt like hours, until he felt his phone buzz in his pocket, and reminded himself he really needed to go.

Eahta helped pull her away, dabbing at the tears and snot dripping down her face. Quatre wiped his eyes and waved them goodbye before returning to his freezing car. 

Turning on the engine, his hand hovered above his pocket. He didn’t know if he wanted to check his phone.

_I’ll do it later. I have 3 hours to get home._

_2 ½ to Tien’s place._

The tears were dying down, enough so that he could see properly as he waved out the window and drove off.

Before he had even reached the highway, the rains had started again.


	2. Thunderheads

The front door slammed open, and he almost slipped on the hardwood, scrambling to get his shoes off.

Six was in the kitchen, Siete was at work.

“You're home early-”

“I'm not who you want to see.”

Six panicked, spinning around. He was halfway through doing dishes, a large knife dripping soapy water in his hands. His curled ears were pressed against his head. 

“Quatre…”

He was fucking filthy, wearing some of Six's old clothes, hair a mess, bag in hand. He bailed for three days only to come back out of nowhere with a vengeance.

“You need to fucking explain yourself or I'm kicking you out.”

He set the knife back in the sink, keeping his distance. He was obviously nervous, almost.. Afraid. Quatre didn't know how he felt about that but he could pretty easily justify liking it.

“You are going to explain to me what the FUCK HAPPENED AND THEN MAYBE I MIGHT CONSIDER FORGIVING YOU!”

Six tried to even his breathing, taking a step forward. “Maybe… not… here…”

Quatre glared before turning and pulling himself out a chair at the table.

Six eventually sat down, sitting across from him.

“...So…”

Quatre raised an eyebrow. “So.”

“...About the not telling you thing…”

“I'm guessing there's a lot more, right? Lots more you're never gonna fucking tell me? Fine then.”

“Wait, what do you mean-”

“I don't care what you did in the past. I want to know WHY. WHY DID YOU NOT TELL ME? DO YOU ACTUALLY HATE STRAWBERRIES?! WHY COULDN'T YOU TELL ME SHIT!? WHAT DID I DO WRONG DAMN IT?!”

Six couldn't get a word out. He just stared. This wasn't what he was expecting in the slightest.

“YEAH, IM NOT AS GOOD AS HIM. I FUCKING KNOW THAT, SO WHY DID YOU WASTE YOUR TIME AND LEAD ME ON LIKE THAT? I ACTUALLY FUCKING LOVE YOU AND I DON'T WANT THIS TO BE HAPPENING BUT IT IS.” Quatre was running out of breath to yell with, and the tears dripping down his face were starting to be reflected in corners of Six’s beautiful eyes and he had never seen him cry before and he wanted to know if it was all a waste and if he wasn’t worthy enough to see who Six actually was and if this was all just a shitty band aid on the deep wounds his dad left-

Six was crying now, sobbing, and Quatre’s heart shouldn’t have taken a blow that hard from it but it did and it burned. 

“So tell me… tell me you love me back. Tell me the truth. Tell me I’m not enough and then leave. You left your shit in my car, I put it by the door. I want an answer in two days or I’m kicking you out.” He was practically choking, tears pouring from his eyes. He could barely see Six’s defeated face, or the stairs to his room.

Stripping and throwing his clothes in the hamper, he collapsed onto his bed. He needed a shower. His hair was still in the messy braid Fif had put in. It felt criminal to take it out.

He probably laid there for half an hour before kicking himself into actually showering. Unweaving the braid, he was reminded of how rarely he did that anymore.

_Six always thought it was cute. Even if he never vocalized it._

The water poured over him. Somehow, it felt colder than the rain did. 

He went through the motions, untangling his hair, washing his ears, scrubbing himself off. 

The steam in the bathroom typically would have been suffocating, but he was much beyond that now.

He was starving, padding down to the kitchen, no longer afraid of running into Six. 

He had barely entered the kitchen when he found himself in a vice-grip of an embrace.

_Well. This is obviously not Six._

The mass of blonde hair immediately confirmed that he was getting crushed by his dad, who was sobbing and mumbling incoherently into his shoulder.

Quatre weakly wrapped his arms around Siete, giving him a gentle squeeze. “...I’m sorry…”

Siete finally released him, wiping his eyes. “I’m just happy you’re safe… Tien told me you called, but-” he stopped. He had gotten his point across. He should know better than to worry like that.

A sweet smell caught Quatre’s attention. “Is that…”

Siete stepped back, smiling. “It is indeed.”

A birthday cake sat on the counter. The icing was messy, and the scrawled, barely legible writing added an odd charm to it.

“I would have assumed you improved in 13 years of doing this.”

Siete laughed. “God no!”

The way he smiled struck Quatre. Even knowing the extreme basics of his dad’s past changed everything. What had happened? How can he still smile and laugh so genuinely? There had never been a day in Quatre’s life where he hadn’t seen Siete at least grin.

“You want a slice? I’m pretty hungry myself.”

“That would be great.”

Siete dramatically pulled the largest knife they owned from the block, dusting it off with a dish towel before even more dramatically positioning the knife over the purple and red decorations.

With much flair and some fumbling, he cut and plated two slices, passing one to Quatre. “There’s beer in the fridge.”

Quatre nodded, hesitantly taking a bite of cake. Just as tasty and slightly over cooked as he remembered.

“You don’t gotta be afraid, I recommend the IPA. The hops really make it taste like shit.” Siete snickered, opening a bottle.

“I’ll pass for now, not keen on becoming an alcoholic at 23.”

“Yeah. Gotta agree with you there.” 

Quatre frowned. That statement was very much cut off. Siete just barely hinted at something Quatre didn’t quite want to press.

_How many times has he hinted about it before?_

“How’s the stuff with Six? You gonna kick him to the curb?”

The sweet, gummy taste of frosting quickly dulled in his mouth. “...He has two days. To explain it.”

Something dark and icy overtook him. He could ask about the military service- Siete wasn’t entirely off the hook here. Six had some explaining to do, but he didn’t have anything quite to the potential scale of Siete’s mess.

But as he snuck glances at him, he realized that now wasn’t the right time. Perhaps it wasn’t a matter of trusting Quatre, it was a matter of trusting himself. 

One day, there may be a time where such questions may be posed, and the risks should be taken, but now was not that time. Quatre needed to worry about Six, first and foremost.

Now it was simply a matter of waiting until he finally came back, possibly on his knees.

***

A fist, gently tapping upon the hardwood, cut through the darkness.

_Good to know I’m not the only one awake._

Quatre made some sort of loud grunt, granting the visitor permission to enter.

There was a creak, some shuffling. 

Six was clear, and almost cold in his tone, trying to freeze the tears in his eyes before they could spill forth. “Quatre. I’m sorry.”

His voice was still coated in the sticky remains of attempted sleep. “No shit.”

The silence knit itself back together, starting to blanket the room, resting heavy upon their shoulders.

Quatre knew Six would be cowering in his mere presence, so he cut right to the chase. It was 3am, no need to beat around the bush. “Do you want to break up or not.”

His suspicions were proven correct as Six stumbled over words, desperately trying to find an answer Quatre would like.

“It’s a Yes or no question, Six. Just tell me the truth. Please.”

“....I don’t wanna break up. I don’t wanna leave you...” 

_You don’t want to be alone._

Something about Six’s voice took a hold of his heart and never let go of it. The needy tone, the childish way of saying it- such a thing should have made him disgusted, made him force Six even further away, but it didn’t.

“Then why. Why did you not trust me.”

“...I wanted to impress you.”

_Are you fucking kidding me. I overreacted and fucked off into the middle of nowhere and got super worried and broke my own heart and found suspicious shit in the woods with a 7 year old and learned about my dad’s military service and possible ptsd and tried to solve my own narcissism because you wanted to look **fucking cool in front of me?!**_

Quatre wanted to rip his own hair out. He sat up, no longer looking at the wall, patting the side of the bed.

“Get over here.”

Six seemed rightfully wary.

“Six, get the fuck over here.”

The bed creaked as Six sat down on the edge of it. He refused to look towards Quatre.

“You’re a fucking Dumbass.”

Six was likely crying, or on the verge of doing so. “...I’m well aware.”

“You’re the actual fucking worst. Actual scum. A damn liar.”

“...If you wanna yell at me just get it over with… Just tell me to leave…”

“No.”

His ears twitched, and he turned to look at Quatre. Looking at him properly for the first time in a while. “...Why?”

“Because I love you, you absolute imbecile.”

The waterworks were starting again. “How are you not mad at me?! How can you be so calm!?-”

Quatre reached out and grabbed his hand, squeezing it. “Oh, I'm fucking furious.”

“So why!-”

“Did you not listen to a word I just said!? I love you damn it!”

“How can that justify-”

“It doesn’t justify shit! And I know that! But that doesn’t matter if you’re willing to love me back!” _You are so much a part of my life as I know it and I want you to be even more involved but if you keep shoving me away one day I’m gonna push back and you’re not gonna like it. In the slightest._

Six was awestruck, and Quatre hoped that the crying and the whining and the _weakness_ he displayed was a hint into his true feelings. Quatre so desperately wanted it to be a declaration of love, he could hardly stand it. “Just fucking tell me.”

Something rumbled outside. Likely a truck or something- the storms should have let up, but the fall weather was always a guessing game.

Swiping his eyes, Six changed his position, moving more onto the bed. His lips opened to say something, looking Quatre dead in the eyes-

A white flash illuminated the room, the tears on his cheeks, every wrinkle of his face-

The thunderclap arrived not even a second later, practically shaking the house in it’s foundations.

Quatre swore as he was slammed against the headboard, a trembling weight crushing him.

Six’s head was buried into his shoulder, arms around his waist, holding him like he was going to disappear. Quatre felt his heart do something- it had to be good, whatever it was. 

“Hey, hey, it’s ok..” He said, trying to calm Six down, petting down his hair, rubbing his back.

Trembling, he buried his head further into Quatre’s shoulder, hands grabbing at him. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry…”

Quatre shushed him, holding him as close as he could. 

Another clap of thunder and flash of lightning caused Six to squeeze him even tighter, tears starting to soak Quatre’s shoulder. “I’m sorry, so sorry…”

“Six, it’s ok, it’s gonna be ok- we can talk it out-” Another rumble and flash, Six squeezing him. “We’re gonna make this work out, you don’t need to be scared…”

Six sniffed, reaching to wipe his eyes. “I know I don’t need to be afraid of the thun-DAAH!”

Quatre could tell the thunder was starting to move away, not directly above the house anymore. “Not the storm, this.”

Six lifted his head up, confused. “Why would I be afraid of-” he was cut off by chilly hands cupping his cheeks, pulling him forward.

“You are afraid. We both were. Loving someone isn’t a moral shortcoming, Six.”

As the thunder grew less apparent and the lightning flashes duller, Six started to calm down. Even so, he never pulled away from Quatre. Not even when exhaustion overcame them and they drifted off to sleep, Six’s very cold feet brushing against his own.

***

“Hey. Quad. You awake.”

“Mhhghh???” 

“Oh, good.” Tien said, opening the door and stepping in. She was about to say something, but the sight of a still sleeping Six resting his head on her (slightly) younger brother’s chest shut her up. “...Did you two have makeup sex during a thunderstorm?”

“Tien I’m gonna destroy you. 1. Learn some manners, and 2. We did not. Get the hell out.”

She smirked, giving him a dramatic, teasing wink before stepping out and closing the door.

He glanced down. Six was so cute whe he was asleep, a bit of drool dripping from the corner of his lips. He was so relaxed, peaceful. 

_You want to see this every damn day, don’t lie to yourself._

Using his free hand, he grabbed his phone, trying to snap as many photos as he could.

Deeming his efforts satisfactory, he put it back, closing his eyes again. May as well try to sleep some more while he had the chance.

**Author's Note:**

> Comment, Kudo, whatever it is y'all want to do!
> 
> I have a [Twitter](https://twitter.com/ConfuzzledSheep?lang=en) where you can come yell at me!! Thank you for reading!!!!!


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